“Steve Jordan,” Zander promptly replied.

“I never heard the third guy’s name,” Ava mentioned, recalling the last stranger who’d offered to help her and Misty.

“He hasn’t come forward,” Zander said. “When he reached the perimeter, he didn’t tell anyone that he was a witness. He was simply searched and released. I guess he didn’t want to be involved.”

Ava frowned. “Most people are willing to help. He was very concerned for Misty and me. I’m surprised.”

“Maybe he has a reason for staying out of the spotlight. He could be an ex-con or he owes child support.”

An ex-con? Ava froze as Zander’s words echoed in her head and she tried to recall the third man. Shorts. Cap. T-shirt. A tiny burst of an idea poked at her brain, and she held her breath, terrified she’d lose it. What if . . . ?

“Let’s get this over with.” She strode toward the door. What if someone wanted to stay under the radar and make us see . . .

Before she reached it, the door opened, and a janitor pushed out a garbage can on wheels while pulling a mop and bucket behind him.

“Good morning,” said Zander, showing his ID. The janitor stopped and looked them up and down.

“Still investigating?” The young janitor spoke with a Mexican accent.

“Yes, notice anything new?” Zander asked.

The young man shook his head. “No, but your cleanup crew sucked. They did a lousy job getting the blood out of the floor—but I got it all.”

“Ah . . . thank you,” said Zander.

“Is there a ladder somewhere that we could borrow?” Ava asked. She ignored Zander’s questioning look. Make us see what we want to see . . .

The janitor shrugged. “Sure. I’ve got one over there.” He nodded to a nearby door with a placard that read EMPLOYEES ONLY.

“Thanks. Anyone in the men’s room?”

“No.”

Ava pulled open the door and stepped into the brightly lit bathroom.

“What do you want a ladder for?” Zander asked as he followed.

“A hunch.”

The men’s room looked like all the photos she’d studied at the command center. Except clean. Blood no longer covered the floor and stalls. “Walter Borrego said the shooter kept walking back and forth between the two sides of the restroom.” She walked around to the back half of the restroom: a duplicate of the front half where the shooter had shot himself. Same layout of stalls, urinals, and sinks.

“Right. He’d told someone to get on the floor back here. Our third witness who has vanished.”

Ava nodded. “I assume all the trash was collected by the techs.”

“Yes. There were only a few paper towels. The restrooms had been already cleaned for the day and been barely used.”

If there’s no place down low . . . She looked up at the ceiling. It was the standard drop ceiling she’d expected. A network of white metal frames and lightweight panels resting on the frames. Zander caught his breath.

“Surely they looked in the ceiling,” he said.

“I don’t recall seeing it in any reports, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t done.” A low buzz had started in her brain as she looked at the ceiling. I could be on a wild-goose chase but that third man . . .

The door to the bathroom flew open and the janitor came in with a six-foot stepladder. Zander took off his sport coat and hung it on a hook on the wall in one of the stalls. He took the ladder from the janitor and looked at Ava. “Where to start?”

“There wasn’t a ladder in here so he would have stood on a toilet or the sink.”

Zander nodded and set the ladder up to sprawl over a toilet in the first stall. He started to climb.

Itching to look, Ava eyed the sinks. Would one hold her? She leaned her weight on her hands on one edge and bounced. Seemed solid. She was about to try when an image of it ripping out of the wall as she stood on top stopped her. Have some patience. She turned around and watched as Zander pushed up on a ceiling panel with his fingertips. He moved it up and to one side inside the open space above the false ceiling. He stepped higher on the ladder and stuck his head inside.

“It’s too dark. I have a flashlight in my car.”

“Here,” said the janitor. He’d been silently watching and moved forward to hand a flashlight to Zander.

Zander thanked him and shone the flashlight into the space above the panels.

“Well?” Ava asked.

Zander carefully rotated on a step on the ladder, invisible from his shoulders up. He was facing in the direction of the sinks when he stopped turning. “I think there’s something in the far corner. It’d be above the sinks.”

“I knew it,” Ava exclaimed. Not patient enough to wait for the ladder, she climbed on top of the last sink, her worry about its holding her weight gone. It obviously held someone heavier than me. She balanced her feet on the sides and slowly stood, looking above her head. She pushed up on the farthest panel, copying Zander’s movements. The panel seemed heavy. She pushed harder and one side shot up while the other tipped down and dropped through the metal frame, dumping clothing onto the floor as the white panel crashed beside them. “Aha!” She jumped down.

Zander grabbed her shoulder before she could touch the black clothing, thrusting vinyl gloves into her hands. Dammit. She yanked them on, her hands swimming in the huge gloves, and lifted a black Nike jacket from the floor. Thrills shot up her spine and she grinned at Zander, who smiled back, his eyes dancing. “Nice job, Special Agent On Vacation.”